Chapter 75: et the Matchmaking Elite
The Palais des Matchmakers was everything Ava had imagined—and everything she’d secretly feared. Set in the heart of Paris, the grand estate glimred with opulence. Its marble floors shone under the light of chandeliers, and gilded accents adorned every corner, from the sweeping staircases to the intricate carvings along the walls. Lush floral arrangents frad the expansive ballroom, where dozens of the world’s top matchmakers mingled, their laughter and conversation echoing across the space.
As Ava stepped inside, she instinctively smoothed the skirt of her dress, her nerves fluttering in her chest. She had spent hours debating what to wear, finally settling on a sleek black dress with understated elegance. It was classy, professional, and—most importantly—not too flashy. i had suggested sothing "with more sparkle," but Ava had shut that idea down imdiately.
"Impressive, huh?" Ryan said, stepping beside her. He looked infuriatingly comfortable in his tailored suit, the faintest grin tugging at his lips.
"Understatent of the century," Ava replied, her voice quieter than usual. She scanned the room, taking in the sea of competitors. Everyone here looked like they belonged—effortlessly polished, exuding confidence, and likely ard with enough charm to sell ice to a penguin.
And then there was Ava, the small-town matchmaker who relied on intuition and gut feelings. She suddenly felt very out of place.
"You’re overthinking," Ryan said, his voice low. "You always get that look when you’re overthinking."
"What look?" Ava asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Like you’re trying to do calculus in your head," Ryan teased. "Relax, Matchmaker. You’ve got this."
Ava opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, a commanding voice cut through the hum of conversation.
---
Enter Margaux Duval
"Ladies and gentlen, if I may have your attention," the voice called, crisp and elegant. Ava turned toward the source, her gaze landing on a striking woman who had stepped onto the small stage at the far end of the ballroom.
Margaux Duval.
The na alone was enough to send a ripple through the crowd. Margaux was a legend in the matchmaking world—a woman known for her precision, poise, and unparalleled success rate. Dressed in a tailored crimson suit that sohow managed to be both intimidating and alluring, Margaux exuded power. Her silver hair was swept into a flawless chignon, and her sharp eyes seed to pierce through the crowd as if she were assessing everyone at once.
"Welco to the L’Amour ??lite competition," Margaux began, her voice carrying effortlessly across the room. "You are not just matchmakers. You are visionaries, architects of connection, and custodians of the most complex puzzle humanity has ever known: love."
Ava felt Ryan shift beside her, and she glanced up to see him watching Margaux with a mixture of curiosity and amusent.
"She’s intense," Ryan murmured under his breath.
"No kidding," Ava whispered back.
Margaux’s gaze swept across the room, and for a brief mont, Ava could have sworn their eyes t. Her stomach flipped. "This competition is not for the faint of heart," Margaux continued. "Each challenge will test your creativity, your intuition, and your ability to navigate the unpredictable nature of human connection. Perfection is not an option—it is a requirent."
"Sounds relaxing," Ryan muttered, earning a soft elbow from Ava.
Margaux gestured toward the side of the stage, where several staff mbers stood holding velvet-covered boards. "Each of you will receive a dossier containing your first set of clients. These individuals have trusted us to guide them toward aningful relationships, and it is your job to ensure their trust is not misplaced. The stakes are high, but the rewards are extraordinary."
Ava swallowed hard, her palms slightly clammy. She could feel the weight of Margaux’s words pressing down on her, amplifying the pressure she was already putting on herself.
"And now," Margaux said, her tone taking on a sharper edge, "allow
to introduce one of our distinguished returning competitors—a man whose innovative approach has redefined the industry."
Ava’s heart sank. She knew what was coming before Margaux even spoke his na.
"Julian Ashcroft."
---
Julian and Ethan’s Entrance
The room erupted into polite applause as Julian Ashcroft stepped forward, his every movent calculated and deliberate. Dressed in a charcoal-gray suit that probably cost more than Ava’s car, Julian exuded confidence. His sharp features were set in a practiced smile, but his eyes—cold and calculating—found Ava almost imdiately.
"Of course," Ava muttered under her breath. "Because this couldn’t get any worse."
Ryan leaned down slightly, his voice quiet but steady. "Ignore him."
Julian took his place near Margaux, accepting the applause with a slight nod before speaking into the microphone. "It’s an honor to be back at L’Amour ??lite," he said, his voice smooth and practiced. "This competition has always been a beacon of excellence in our field, and I look forward to pushing the boundaries of what matchmaking can achieve."
"Did he rehearse that in the mirror?" Ryan whispered, earning a stifled laugh from Ava.
Before Ava could respond, another figure erged from the crowd, sauntering toward Julian with an air of smug self-assurance.
Ethan Chase.
Unlike Julian’s polished deanor, Ethan’s entrance was more casual—almost deliberately so. He wore a blazer over a dark turtleneck, his expression dripping with cocky amusent as he joined Julian on stage.
"Great," Ava muttered. "The dynamic duo."
Ethan took the microphone from Julian, flashing the crowd a toothy grin. "Bonjour, everyone. It’s great to be back—though I must admit, I was hoping for tougher competition this year."
His gaze landed on Ava, and the grin widened. Ava bristled, her grip tightening on the clutch in her hand.
"Don’t bite," Ryan murmured, his voice low. "That’s what he wants."
"I wasn’t going to bite," Ava hissed. "I was going to throat punch."
Ryan chuckled, his hand brushing lightly against the small of her back—a grounding gesture that sohow managed to calm her racing nerves.
---
Margaux’s Challenge
Margaux, clearly unfazed by Ethan’s theatrics, reclaid the microphone and redirected the attention back to the competition. "Now that our introductions are complete," she said, "it’s ti to distribute your dossiers. Each of you will receive detailed profiles of your first clients, along with a brief overview of tomorrow’s challenge."
As the staff mbers began handing out the dossiers, Margaux continued. "Rember, this is not just about matching individuals. It is about creating connections that transcend expectation—connections that inspire."
When Ava’s turn ca, she accepted the velvet-covered board with a polite nod, her heart pounding as she caught a glimpse of the nas inside. She barely had ti to process them before Julian’s voice cut through the air.
"Good luck, Ava," he said smoothly, appearing beside her like a shadow. "You’ll need it."
Ava turned to face him, her chin lifting defiantly. "I don’t need luck, Julian. Just my instincts."
Julian’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a glint of challenge in his eyes. "We’ll see how far those instincts take you."
As he walked away, Ryan stepped closer, his presence steadying her once again. "You okay?"
Ava nodded, her jaw tight. "Yeah. I’m fine."
"Good," Ryan said, his voice calm but firm. "Because you’re going to wipe the floor with him."
For the first ti that evening, Ava felt a small spark of confidence ignite in her chest. She glanced down at the dossier in her hands, her determination hardening.
"Let’s do this," she said, her voice steady.
Ryan’s grin widened. "That’s my Matchmaker."
The ballroom buzzed with anticipation as the staff moved swiftly, distributing the velvet-covered dossiers. Ava clutched hers tightly, her knuckles whitening as she tried to process the magnitude of what lay ahead. The words of Margaux Duval echoed in her mind: Perfection is not an option—it is a requirent. No pressure, right?
Ryan, standing beside her, leaned in slightly. "You’ve got that look again."
"What look?" Ava asked, not taking her eyes off the closed dossier.
"The one where you’re trying to psych yourself out before you even start," he said lightly, nudging her shoulder. "Open it. You’re going to crush this."
Ava exhaled, her fingers trembling slightly as she flipped open the cover. Inside were two client profiles, complete with glossy headshots and neatly typed details. The first was a young woman nad Camille—a pastry chef with a passion for books and a fear of large crowds. The second was a man nad ??tienne—a museum curator who loved jazz but struggled with expressing his emotions. Ava’s mind imdiately began to work, piecing together possibilities and strategies.
"See?" Ryan said, peeking over her shoulder. "Pastry chefs and jazz lovers? That’s your wheelhouse."
Ava rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. "You’re oversimplifying."
"Or," Ryan countered, grinning, "I’m reminding you how good you are at this."
Before Ava could respond, a loud laugh erupted nearby, drawing their attention. Ethan Chase was leaning against the bar, holding court with a group of competitors. His voice carried across the room as he regaled them with what was undoubtedly an exaggerated story about his past matchmaking triumphs. Julian stood nearby, his expression unreadable, though the faintest smirk tugged at his lips.
"Ethan’s like a mosquito," Ava muttered. "Annoying, persistent, and impossible to ignore."
Ryan chuckled. "And just like a mosquito, you’re going to swat him."
Ava smirked, her confidence returning in small incrents. She glanced back down at the profiles, her mind sharpening. "Okay," she said softly, more to herself than anyone else. "Let’s do this."
Ryan’s hand brushed against hers briefly, grounding her once more. "That’s the spirit."
As Margaux dismissed the room, Ava tightened her grip on the dossier. The competition had officially begun, and the stakes had never felt higher. But with Ryan beside her, whispering confidence into her ear, Ava felt ready to take her first steps into the fray.
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